


Show, Never Tell

by isleofdreams



Series: on the nth day of dt week the server gave to me [3]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombie Apocalypse, Blood and Gore, Comfort, Confessions, Developing Friendships, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Friendship/Love, M/M, Mild Gore, Stargazing, Zombie Apocalypse, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-18
Updated: 2020-09-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:54:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25972456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/isleofdreams/pseuds/isleofdreams
Summary: George doesn't trust anyone.It's normal for him to go solo, really, especially after a certain incident that involves his friends abandoning him, bailing on him and leaving him to death's mercy. Silence is his best companion.That is, until a certain duo stumbles upon him as he fights death yet again.(Or alternatively, George learns to trust and let people in during a zombie apocalypse, and realises that having someone to lean on isn't too bad after all)
Relationships: Clay | Dream & Darryl Noveschosch & Sapnap, Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF), Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), Dave | Technoblade & GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF), GeorgeNotFound & Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: on the nth day of dt week the server gave to me [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1866301
Comments: 76
Kudos: 839
Collections: Dream Team Week 2020





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello! some serious stuff to go through before we begin:
> 
> These are merely their personas, which means that it does not represent the Dream Team irl in any way at all. Some of the information that they reveal on stream/videos/etc may be used. The ship is purely for entertainment purposes, so do NOT shove it down their throats. They've said that they're fine with the shipping, but if any one of them states that they're uncomfortable with it, I will take this down immediately
> 
> alright, well, this is supposed to be day 3 of DT week, but guess who took too long :)
> 
> PROMPT FOR DAY 3: lies and apocalypse
> 
> supposed to be a oneshot, but i wrote too much so it'll have like two/three chapters i guess lmfao
> 
> WARNING: may consists injuries and blood (maybe mild gore, but we'll see). read at your own risk
> 
> enjoy!

It’s empty.

The world is empty, a broken shell that humanity has thrown away, like a toy that a kid is done playing, discarded and forgotten. The world is empty, of life, rid of almost everything that runs and everything that jumps and everything that flies, that breathes. The world is empty, and society has turned to Earth’s companion, Mars, after Earth herself is barely able to sustain everyone. 

After sucking life out of Earth, shedding her of her green coat, humans have escaped to Mars for life when Earth is deemed almost too toxic to survive. Escaping in pods and spacecraft, they don’t even spare her a glance, not even bothering to say goodbye as they leave Earth choking among the fumes and smoke, the land barren with waste.

It’s disgusting, honestly, how humans just discarded Earth away. 

But then again, no one wants to be infected by zombies.

When the outbreak had started, everyone thought it was a joke as they continued about their daily lives. Barely anyone reacted when the head scientist warned the world of the dangerous consequences, even going as far as mocking him for believing in such myths. However, when the cases of infections increased exponentially, and friends and loved ones turned into brain-dead creatures, the late realisation of the detrimental effects kicked in. 

At first, it seemed like the government had it under control, restricting and warning citizens from going out. But as news of wealthy businessmen and powerful politicians escaping to Mars leaked, it was clear that it was out of control. 

Panic settled in. Fights broke out just for a single can of beans, and crime rates increased as people broke into others houses to steal supplies. Fear was heightened as soon as the zombies invaded the busiest streets of cities and bustling towns, and soon all that’s left were nothing but the infected.

The only advice?

Run. 

Run while you can.

*  
George grunts as he swings his sword at one of them, barely dodging its reach. The zombie groans louder, dragging its body closer to George, unwilling to let go of its fresh meal. One of its buddies limps towards George, but it is soon defeated as George puts the sword through its abdomen.

Glancing around, George realises that he’s surrounded. The horde of undead has somehow found a way to corner him in an alley, and as George runs forward, he is met by a solid brick wall. A dead end with no escape.

The hot sun breathes on him, sweat drenching his entire body. His right hand is holding a shield that’s almost losing its durability, while his left his trusty iron sword. As he approaches the wall, he attempts to place his foot on the edge of a brick that's protruding out, only for him to stumble backwards, as if the wall is mocking him for even trying.

_There’s no way out_ , it chants, and if that fucker has a face, there’d be a smug smirk plastered on it. George punches the wall, and turns around to dart, to find a way out, when the loud grumbles of zombies causes him to jump in alert. 

If he wants to escape, wants to live, then he needs to be quick.

Holding his shield up, he braces himself for the impact as he rushes forward, towards the sea of flesh and blood, towards outstretched hands with missing fingers and blurred faces. George ducks as one of them attempts to grab him, and the putrid scent of rotten flesh causes George to almost puke, but he tries to hold his breath as he slashes his sword at the zombies, trying to make a way out. 

Among the red, he sees a flash of light at the end, and a wave of relief and happiness washes over him as adrenaline pushes him further, fueling his tired body with strength and energy to battle through the undead. He’s so, so close from freedom.

A hand pulls on his shirt, and he’s sent stumbling backwards, falling into the crowds. 

He lets out a loud scream as he holds his shield up, the wooden splinters falling on him, grazing past his cheeks. There are hands on his legs and feet and arms and everywhere, and George closes his eyes as he hears a crack from his shield. He’s waving his sword around, but it’s useless if he has no protection at all.

He feels fingers running along his legs, and blood is splattering onto his face and his body as the foul breath of zombies brushes against him. A stray tear falls down his face. His arms are aching, and he’s so tempted to just put down the shield, to just let go.

But a yell cuts through the dull groans of the zombies, standing out from the low noises of the undead. As the undead turns their head at the sound, George’s eyes widen with shock and relief.

“Yeah, bitches? C’mhere!” 

The zombies, now disinterested in George, lunges for their newest prey. A wave of fresh air hits him, and he almost cries in relief as red dissipates to give way to the clear, blue sky above. Lying on the ground, he lets himself rest, stay there for a little while, to collect his own thoughts.

He has barely grazed Death by the shoulders, the scythe missing his neck by mere inches. The adrenaline is still coursing through his veins, but a hint of fatigue is seeping into his system. He lets his shield fall beside him with a clang, but the iron sword is still in his hand in a weak grip, a precaution in case he needs to fight again.

“Buddy? You good?” A low voice from above causes George’s eyes to snap open in alert, and as if on instinct, he raises his sword and points at the stranger’s throat. The boy only raises his hands in surrender, taking a step back from the sharp edge of the metal.

“Dude, chill. We literally just saved you.”

George raises his eyebrow, still weary from the mob of zombies. The sword is still pointed towards the boy, his dirty blonde hair partially covering his eyes as a small smirk is present on its face.

_Cocky bastard_ , George thinks, but puts the sword down anyway. He picks up his half-busted shield, and lets his fingers run along the crack that has formed in the middle of the smooth oak wood. He feels the boy stare at him, but he doesn’t spare him a glance as he turns around and walks towards his bike.

“Hey, not even a thank you?” The boy calls out, though the words are carried away by the small breeze. George chooses to ignore him.

“Fuckin’ bastard. C’mon, Dream, let’s go.” Another voice joins in, and George realises that there’s two of them. He doesn’t let himself turn back, doesn’t let himself fall for the trap, because last time he showed gratitude, he got betrayed.

He doesn’t let himself crack.

The pavement in front of him suddenly feels like jelly, and his legs give way as he collapses onto the cold concrete floor. His sword drops beside him, his shield following suit, and his vision is blurry. He tries to refocus, but the loud growling in his stomach and the dryness in his throat reminds him that he needs to eat.

He ran out of food long ago. 

He hears panicked voices around him, but they’re so muffled, as if he’s underwater. His arms feel too heavy for him, and despite the voices in his head telling him to get up, exhaustion clouds his mind as it coaxes him to sleep.

The only thing he sees is bright eyes as he falls.

*  
“You sure he’s good?” Sapnap asks, his eyes darting to George’s limp body every few seconds as concern and worry etches into his face.

“This is the fifth time you’re asking. I thought you didn’t like him?” Dream retorts, groaning as he tries to make sure that George doesn’t fall off his back. “God, he’s so heavy. Why am I the one carrying him?”

“‘Cause you wanted to bring him back! It’s your idea, idiot.” Sapnap rolls his eyes as he pushes George’s bike forward, the sword and shield hanging loosely against his back. “Plus, he might be our new companion, y’know?”

Dream’s foot barely misses the rock in front of him. “Wait, what?” 

He’s hyper aware of the soft exhales from George on his neck, causing him to almost shiver.

“Look, don’t even try to hide it, okay? You literally never tried to save anyone before,” Sapnap argues, and Dream opens his mouth to come up with a response, but the former cuts him off. “You saw something in him, didn’t you?”

Dream stays silent, and George is suddenly so heavy on his back. He wraps George’s arms closer around him, and holds his legs tighter. Sapnap only smirks at him. 

Their makeshift camp comes into view, so Dream quickens his footsteps. He curses at George’s weight, but when he sets him down on the ground to tend to his wounds, the warmth of George’s body against his lingers on his back.

Dream doesn’t admit it out loud, but he misses it.

*  
When George opens his eyes, the first thing he sees is a thin layer of yellow plastic held up with some strings.

Confused, he sits up, but his abdomen burns a little as a foreign tightness wraps around it, so he falls back onto the rough surface, groaning. Pulling his shirt up, he realises that his body is wrapped with bandages and gauze. 

A luxury to have in the apocalypse, honestly. 

Slowly, he tries to sit back up again, letting his sore body get used to the movements. His hands try to ground himself on the thin pieces of hay that have been carelessly put together to form a temporary bed. 

It’s not comfortable, but it’s something. 

He lets his eyes wander around the small camp, but a figure catches his eyes. He lets out a soft gasp as he tries to stand up, ignoring the protests of his aching arms and legs. Instinctively, he reaches for his sword, and his heart drops when he realises it’s not there. His shield is missing too.

The shuffles catches the movements of the stranger, and as he walks towards George, the latter tries to back up into the camp, his heart beating in fear and his eyes trained on the dirty blonde haired boy. 

The boy is closing the distance between them quickly.

“Don’t come any closer,” George tries to growl, but it comes out more of a whimper instead. A sharp pain from his abdomen causes him to hold the wound and wince. 

The stranger doesn’t say anything, but he crouches down, and with steady yet gentle hands, moves George’s hands out of the way. George bites on his lip, trying to regulate his breathing as the boy unwraps the bandage with nimble fingers, examining the wound. 

“You reopened it again,” he says, and George looks away. “Sapnap didn’t do a good job, either.”

“Who are you?” George asks, but the boy doesn’t respond. Instead, he takes out a box from near the bed, and brings out medical supplies that George wishes he could afford. 

Before George realises it, a burning sensation nips at his nerves, and he lets out a hiss as the boy pours alcohol over the wound. His hand reaches out to grab at something to let out his pain, but it finds its way onto the boy’s forearm instead. The boy merely raises an eyebrow, so George releases it quickly, face burning in embarrassment.

“You can hold onto me,” he says, and without warning, pours more alcohol onto the wound. George latches onto the former’s arm, wincing as a pathetic whimper emits from his throat. Tears are threatening to fall from his eyes, and despite having to do this multiple times alone, he never got used to the stinging feeling.

George looks away as the boy cleans his wounds and rebandages it, choosing to focus on the lantern that is sitting on the ground, inspecting its intricate details. He wonders where they’ve gotten this much supplies, when the boy stands up.

“It’s done.” He turns around, but George grabs at his hand instead. 

“Where’s my sword?” 

“You don’t need it,” the boy says, and George feels anger bubbling from the bottom of his stomach.

“I’m leaving, whether you want me to or not,” he growls, but the boy merely lets out a howl of laughter. As he turns to look at George, the mischievous glint in his eyes causes George to grit his teeth.

Cocky bastard.

“You can’t even walk properly, let alone fight! Just stay here with us, we’re gonna take good care of you.”

George knows he’s right, but the words still rile him up. He tries to sit back up, but the boy is pushing him back, his hands firm on George’s shoulder.

“Don’t you dare reopen it again,” he threatens, his voice low as he glares at George. “You know medical supplies aren’t easy to get, so count yourself fucking lucky that we’re wasting this on you.”

When George doesn’t move, the boy stands back up and turns around. 

“Dream.”

“What?”

The boy chuckles, and George wonders if he’s crazy. “I’m Dream.”

Before George can respond, Dream is already out of the camp.

George suddenly feels lonely.

*  
“You know, I don’t think I’ve asked you for your name.” Dream sits down beside George, the fireplace illuminating both of their faces in the dark night, the only source of heat that keeps them warm. 

The crickets chirp silently in the grasslands, the only sign of life, but it is still eerily silent as George pokes at the fire, trying to huddle the logs closer so that they can burn. The flames lick at the chilly breeze, sparks floating around and dying as they land on the sandy surface. 

The night sky is littered with stars, light pollution no longer an issue due to the lack of electricity. At first, George used to be mesmerised by them, spending time just to admire how they twinkled and shined, but overtime, he has gotten used to their presence as they stare him down.

Beauty turns to boredom once you stare at it for too long, George has realised.

He shrugs, as the stick he’s holding breaks into half. “You don’t have to know my name. I’m gonna leave after I heal.”

“So we save you, and this is what we get?” 

There is possibly the slightest hint of anger behind the amusement, but George brushes it away as he turns to the boy beside him. “Why do you want to know me so badly?”

“Because, y’know, it’s weird that we don’t? What are we gonna call you then-”

“George.”

George’s eyes stay glued to the bright flames, throwing the branch into the flames to feed the fire. He feels the other stare at him, presumably shocked that he has given in this quickly. The fire seems to grow stronger and brighter, and George lets out a small smile as warmth reaches his hands. 

“You should smile more.”

George glares at Dream, and stands up, unable to enjoy the feeling of solitude anymore. Before he leaves, he throws a statement to Dream.

“Maybe you should stop telling me what to do.”

The fire seems to burn brighter as he walks away.

*  
The first time he meets Sapnap is in the dead of the night, when the latter is up for his night shift. 

George had woken up from a nightmare, and had decided to take a breather outside. Stepping over Dream who is snoring peacefully in his sleep, he lifts the flap to the camp’s entrance and looks around, only to be met by another boy who looks about the same age as him.

“What’chya doing out here?”

“I just… needed some fresh air,” George huffs, his breath forming thin trails of fog before disappearing into the night. He watches as they dissipate into nothing. 

“Yeah, I feel you,” the boy chuckles. “You’re George, right?”

“Did Dream tell you my name?”

“Yah. I’m Sapnap, nice to meet you.” Sapnap holds out a hand, and George takes it out of instinct. The handshake is firm, yet behind it there is some sort of gentleness to it. “Dream talks about you a lot.”

“He’s a bitch,” George grumbles, but Sapnap merely laughs as he tosses another piece of wood into the fire. “No, I’m serious, why are you even with him?”

“We’re best friends, dude. Can’t abandon each other in times like these,” Sapnap says, his eyes following the edges of the flames as they danced in the cool air. “Plus, he’s not as bad as you think he is. It’s just sometimes he comes off as blunt.”

“I dunno, seems a little stubborn to me, too.”

Sapnap sighs, and George thinks that he has pissed him off, too.”He just wants the best for all of us, I guess.”

“Thank you, by the way,” George blurts out, and in the flickering light, he can see a small smile creep onto Sapnap’s face. “For saving me back there.”

“The person you should be thanking is Dream. He’s the one who spotted you and decided to help you.” Sapnap brushes his black pants, dusting away the debris that has somehow found their way onto him. “He never helps anyone.”

George wonders what the final sentence is supposed to mean, but he drops it, the wind carrying it away. “Well, you helped too, didn’t you? You deserve the credits too.”

Sapnap laughs, and some of his dark hair covers his eyes as he looks at George with a grin, like George has cracked the best joke ever. “I just helped to distract. Dream was the one doing all the fighting.”

“Well, you still played a part.”

“I suppose.”

The fire seems to cackle louder in the silence. Sapnap feeds it a thin branch, a small snack for its contribution, but it gobbles up excitedly anyway as it burns brighter. Sapnap’s features seem to sharpen a little more under the bright light. 

Apart from the crackling of fire and wood, the silence seems to be tense, as if the last sentence had ended on a wrong note. George shifts a little, and clears his throat.

“Dream keeps asking me to join you guys,” George mumbles, plucking at the dry grass beneath him as he lets it fall from his grip, the blades floating away in the breeze. He hears Sapnap hum in agreement.

“Well, it’s better to travel in groups, y’know? We can look out for each other and stuff,” Sapnap says, his eyes travelling to George’s face for a second before he crosses his arms. “We could get another helping hand, I suppose.”

George frowns. “I’m not gonna stay for long. Once my wound heals I’m gonna leave. Seriously, thank you guys, but it’s better for me to go solo.”

“We’re not gonna hurt you, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

George scoffs internally, because he has heard the same exact words multiple times before, when he was still with a group of friends. They had promised to not abandon each other, to stay by each other’s side, to fight for each other. Foolishly, George believed them. 

So when there was a mob of zombies outside their camp, thirsting for fresh, human meat, George had been the first one out to fight them, adrenaline running high as he swung his sword with all his might. He tried to buy time for his friends to pack up and escape, but when the battle was over, when the heads of zombies scattered across the bloodsoaked ground, George turned around with a smile, ready to celebrate with his clan.

There was nothing but brown patches of grass, where the tent once stood, all high and mighty in its glory. He let the sword slip from his grasp.

Confusion flooded his system at first, but it slowly turned into realisation. He picked himself up.

From that moment onwards, he travelled alone. 

“It’s fine,” George replies, and the wind seems to howl louder in his ears. He stands up, but a hand is grabbing onto his, restraining him from moving further. 

“Please?” Sapnap begs, and even under the dim lighting, George can see Sapnap pout. “Just for one week? You don’t have to travel with us afterwards if you don’t like us.”

George stays still. He knows that in the end, they’re just going to betray him, taking away whatever he has gathered on his own, his efforts futile. He knows that in the end, they’re going to be no different than his previous group of friends, who had ditched him out of cowardice and selfishness. He knows that in the end, everyone fights only for themselves, and that no one will fight for each other no matter how close you are.

So what makes it different this time? What makes him reconsider, makes him rethink his decisions? Perhaps it’s the fatigue that had slipped into his bloodstream while he was talking to Sapnap, or perhaps it’s the irritation that accompanies every request that Dream and Sapnap had given him. Perhaps, even, it’s the longing for a friend, to have someone to have your back, to experience the warmth of humanity once again, even if it has long been gone.

He brushes them off and blames it on the deal, instead. 

One week. Seven days, and he will be free. 

“Sure,” he says, his voice quiet, and Sapnap almost lets out a loud whoop as he releases George. 

George shoves his hands into his pockets and ducks back into the tent. 

*  
For the next few days, George sticks around.

At first, he stayed back at base after being assigned as the watcher, someone who looks after their belongings. Although he knew his wound wasn’t healed enough to battle and scout for food yet, George couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed as he watched Dream and Sapnap head out everyday (with Sapnap borrowing George’s bicycle, the former admitting to it one day) and return with bright smiles as they held up their discoveries, as if they were hunters who had returned with two weeks’ worth of game meat.

It’s boring, to say the least, to be the one who stays back, but if he wants to leave, he needs to recover. However, he finds slight happiness bubbling at the bottom of his stomach when Sapnap grins at him as night falls, or when Dream gives him his trademark smirk that George has soon come to realise it's his way of saying hello. 

George feels like he’s home, like he’s in a family, and that is a dangerous feeling.

So he hides behind his cold and uncaring mask, providing the duo with nothing more than a small smile on his face, a polite greeting. He reminds himself that they’re still untrustable, that they’re technically still strangers (even though they had saved him and cleaned his wounds). He is mindful in his actions, careful to not take too much when Sapnap offers him dinner, to not use too much gauze on his wounds. Careful to not let too many words slip out of his mouth, careful to not show too much emotion.

Until one night, Sapnap comes stumbling into the tent, his eyes wide and filled with panic as he shakes both George and Dream to wake them up. 

“Guys! Fuck, we gotta go!” Sapnap yells, scrambling to pack up all of their belongings. Dream and George groans, still trying to wave away sleep that had wrapped itself around their minds. Sapnap throws the both of them an empty bag to pack up as he fills his with food.

A loud groan from the undead slices through the silence.

George freezes. They need to leave, _now_.

Sleep has left his system as he sweeps the medical supplies into his bag with shaky hands, trying not to topple any glass bottles while Dream quickly tears down the tent, leaving them bare and exposed. The cold bitter air nips at his skin, sending shivers down his body, but in the heat of the moment, all he feels is panic as he grabs the remaining supplies of food. His bag is messy, and it is probably a rookie mistake that he will beat himself over when everything has calmed again, but he doesn’t have time to think about it as he looks up to check the distance between them and the zombies.

“We have to run!” Dream shouts, the tent haphazardly folded in his arms as he reaches over to heave one of Sapnap’s bags on his shoulders. “George, Sapnap!”

Swiftly, George catches his iron sword that Dream has tossed at him, a hint of glee running through his system until the pants of zombies snaps him back to reality. He picks up a shield lying on the floor (Sapnap’s? He doesn’t care anymore) and barely blocks a hand that’s reached out for him. Swiping at its legs, he hears its grunt as the zombie falls, realising that another wave is bound to come if they don’t leave immediately.

“Sap, let’s go!” George hears Dream let out a yelp as he dodges another zombie, and in the corner of his eye, George sees the hoard that’s gunning for them.

“Sapnap, what are you doing?”

“Where’s the fucking meds?” Sapnap screeches, and if it isn’t for circumstances, George would have reached over to hit Sapnap on the head.

“I have it, you idiot. Go!” 

George sees Dream push off one of the zombies, and turns around to run. He and Sapnap both follow suit, and in the process, George can feel the dull thud of his wound, but he ignores it as he grabs onto the straps of his backpack, mentally preparing himself for the long journey. The backpack is thumping against his back, too low and heavy for his liking, but he swallows the complaint that’s rising from his throat as he hears the frantic footsteps of both Dream and Sapnap somewhere beside him. 

The road ahead is dark, and for once, George curses at the stars for not illuminating their escape route. He tries to not trip over rocks or stray branches as the growling of zombies pushes him to run faster. Adrenaline numbs his brain as his body goes into autopilot, and he lets his arms swing as fast as he can and lets his feet bring him further and further away from the brainless mobs.

That is, until a loud shriek rings from beside him.

George turns around, his eyes scanning the ground, when he spots Sapnap sprawled across the floor, his backpack weighing him down. Dream rushes over to him as George scrambles to help him, pulling Sapnap up, when a yelp causes Sapnap to sit back down again, George barely catching himself.

“Shit, I think I twisted my ankle,” Sapnap whimpers, his hands squeezing the injured area. George’s eyes widen as Dream kneels down and takes Sapnap’s hands away.

“Can you walk?”

“I… no.”

The word hangs in the air, heavy. George barely registers a rotten hand grazing his arms until Dream slashes at the zombie. 

“Go. Leave!” Sapnap winces as he tries to stand up again. “Fuck, just run! I’ll be fine!”

“Fine? You can’t even walk! I’m not ditching you!” Dream yells, and George inserts his sword into another undead. 

“No, you guys- fuck, you guys gotta go!”

George almost growls at the duo squabbling, the both of them stubborn. “Dream, you carry Sapnap. I’ll fight them off, god fuck-” He ducks when a pair of hands swing at him.

“George-”

“GO!” George yells, clenching his teeth as he strikes another zombie again. He turns around for a brief moment, holding his shield up to block the attacks. “Fucking go, goddamnit! I can handle this!”

Dream is already hooking Sapnap’s arm around his neck, one of his arms under Sapnap’s knees as he carries the injured boy up. Dream and George make eye contact for a second, and the uncertainty in Dream’s eyes morphs into determination as he holds Sapnap tighter. 

“I’ll be back for you, George,” Dream says, but George lets the words slip, lets them float in the wind and disappear. He turns around and swings his sword, letting adrenaline take control over his body. 

_That’s what everyone says_ , he thinks, fighting off a zombie as he blocks another attack. He muffles a pained scream as one of the undead successfully sinks its teeth into his calf. He stumbles, losing momentum, but he plants his feet firmly into the ground as he pivots and slices off the zombie’s head. 

The concept of time is lost as George continues fighting, the taste of rotten flesh bitter in his mouth and the stench of stale blood choking him, but he perseveres. His eyes flicker here and there as he switches between dodging and attacking, his primal instincts to survive kicking in, Dream’s words echoing in his head.

_I’ll be back for you._

George clings onto the words like it’s his lifeline, even though they have thorns on them and they prick him as he holds onto them tighter, because he knows that he shouldn’t trust words. Words are merely empty promises and sugar coated lies to George, giving false hopes when they do nothing but let him down. 

So why is he grabbing onto Dream’s words tightly as he hacks through the wave of zombies, as if Dream is different? Why is he letting the words repeat over and over, giving him newfound strength to continue battling? Why is he trusting Dream?

_I’ll be back for you._

Fingers find their way onto his arm, but he shakes them off, the ghost of dead hands haunting him. His feet is sweeped out underneath him, and he falls, his heart lurching too as he makes contact with the ground with a soft thud. Holding out his shield, he blindly swings his sword, praying. Holding onto Dream’s words, chanting it like a mantra, as if he’s a sailor lost at sea and they are his lighthouse.

_I’ll be back for you._

_So where are you, Dream?_

George kicks at a zombie that comes too close to his legs for comfort, and he’s suddenly teleported to the day he nearly died, when Sapnap and Dream had saved him just in time as the swarm was too much for him to handle. The parallels to that event would’ve made George laugh if it weren’t for the humid and foul breath of zombies mixing with his. 

A hand grabs at the edge of his shield, and he hears it crack slightly underneath the pressure.

“DREAM!”

George screams, hoping that Dream is near him, hoping that someone, somewhere, has heard him and is coming to his rescue. The sword is deemed useless as George is pinned underneath layers and layers of rotten flesh, almost suffocating him. His shield is his only lifeline, but it seems to be giving up on him too as another small crack finds its way on the upper corner.

Dream lied. Nobody came.

He’s alone once again.

The idea of Dream giving up on him hurts way more than usual, and he tries to soothe his aching heart by attempting to convince himself that Dream is just a mere stranger whom he has only met for six days. He clenches his teeth, refusing to let himself cry over something so measly, but he spirals deep into the thought, the dark hole reaching out to him like the zombies he’s trying to wave off of him now. 

Just for a split second, the idea of giving up flashes across his mind. He shakes it away immediately, but it has already taken a toll on his morale, and suddenly, the arm holding up his shield feels so, so heavy.

He closes his eyes, and he tastes copper and garbage. He bites on his lip. 

He’s ready.

A small smile is set on George’s face as he relaxes his arm. His sword lies on the ground beside him, and George mentally thanks it for fulfilling its duties and accompanying him on his journey. 

It feels so, so wrong to be at peace, to give in, but George relishes in it.

“GEORGE!”

George’s eyes snap open as his hold on the shield tightens again. He waits for a sign, an indication that he’s hallucinating, but the choked grunts and diverted attention of the zombies proves him wrong. Grabbing his sword, he swings with all his might, until all that’s left are decapitated heads and twitching bodies, and-

And Dream. In front of him.

“Dream?”

“George, you-” Dream strides over, and for a moment, George sees the fury burning in his eyes. “You motherfucker! I thought-”

“You came back-”

“Of course I did!” Dream’s fingers dig into George’s shoulders tightly, but it’s different from the zombies. There’s some sort of warmth radiating off him, telling George that he’s human, that he’s alive, and strangely, George finds comfort within it. “I thought I lost you!”

“I thought-”

“You thought what?” Dream shouts, shaking George a bit, but behind the fury George can see concern and fear in those eyes. “What, huh? You thought I’d ditch you? Why’d you stop fighting, George?”

Dream’s voice trembles, and before George knows it, he’s engulfed in a hug as Dream holds him tightly. George feels Dream shake, so he wraps his arms around the latter, rubbing circles on his back.

“I thought I fucking lost you, George…”

The vulnerability in Dream’s words stuns George for a moment, and he lets his heart thump faster, just for that few seconds. Dream’s body is pressed against his firmly, the tightness of Dream’s grip on George providing him some sort of protection. 

For once, George feels safe.

Dream pulls away a little too soon for George’s liking, but his hands still remain on George’s shoulder as he examines him for injuries, his eyes still wet with tears. Holding George’s chin, he tilts the boy’s head left and right, as if the brownish-coloured blood and the stale smell of flesh doesn’t bother him at all.

“Are you hurt?”

George bites his lip and nods. “My leg, I got bitten by one.”

Dream immediately kneels down, his fingers lightly tracing George’s calf, where the wound is. George watches as Dream delicately places his hand near the injured area, handling it with care, as if George is a porcelain doll that’s easy to break. George hisses when Dream accidentally touches the wound, and Dream sputters out apologies as he distances his fingers from the area.

“It’s gonna get infected if we don’t clean it. Can you still walk?”

George nods again, as if his words have been stolen by the playful wind that is tossing Dream’s hair around, the curls falling in front of his eyes as soon as the latter pushes it back up. Dream stands up, and puts George’s arm around his shoulder.

“Is this okay?” Dream asks, looking up at George. George gives him another nod.

They slowly make their way back to Sapnap, George wincing with every step at the burn. The adrenaline wears off, plaguing George’s entire body with fatigue as he stumbles, a little self-conscious about his weight as Dream tries to support him. 

“Why’d you stop fighting?”

“Huh?”

Dream clears his throat. “Just now. You could’ve easily fought through them, get back up. I’ve seen you fight the first time we met, you aren’t that bad. Why’d you stop?”

“I… uh-” George is suddenly aware of Dream’s hair tickling his neck. “I thought I was gonna die, so why not?”

“If you thought so, you wouldn’t have fought so hard at first,” Dream retorts, and George feels heat creep up his cheeks in embarrassment. “You would’ve just given up, just ran away. Put down the shield as soon as your back hits the ground. Why didn’t you, then?”

“To buy time for Sapnap,” George snaps, annoyed that his vulnerability is exposed. “I’m not some heartless fucker.”

Dream stays quiet at that, and his grip seems to tighten a little around George’s waist. George wants to apologise, but Dream clears his throat and switches the topic before he can say more.

“Wait.”

They both stop in their tracks, and George almost collapses at how weak he is. Dream places both their iron shield and sword on the floor, unwrapping George’s arms around him. 

George kind of misses the contact, but he doesn’t say it out loud.

“Are you comfortable with me carrying you?”

“What?” George asks, dumbfounded. “Are you serious?”

“George, answer the question.”

George tries to search for the playful glint in Dream’s eyes, or his signature smirk, but when he fails, realises that Dream is serious about this. Too tired to argue about personal space, he nods. 

“Take these.” Dream picks up the weapons, and George bites his lip as he tries to steady himself. 

Dream bends down, and with one swift motion, lifts George up. George’s eyes widen, as he squirms around a little, the iron swords clanging together at his movements.

“Stop moving,” Dream mumbles, and George goes still. “Just get some rest, okay?”

“How’d I know that you won’t loot and kill me?”

Dream scoffs. “If I wanted to do that, I wouldn’t have saved you.”

George keeps quiet as he relishes in Dream’s warmth, betraying his thoughts as he curls up closer to Dream’s chest. Through the soft fabric, he can hear the soft thumping of Dream’s steady heartbeat, and he smiles as a thin shawl of fatigue wraps around his mind. 

“Thank you,” George whispers. 

Dream pretends he doesn’t catch it, but George hears his heart skip a beat. 

George smiles, and decides to let sleep catch up to him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this took way too fucking long, im sorry :( school got the best of me, and exams are coming up (its Soon but i decided to post a chapter uh oops-), so i had to focus on that instead of writing 2k words (or more) per day fdsf
> 
> reminder that theses are fictional and theyre only characters, so please dont bash them
> 
> enjoy!
> 
> (gonna apologise for the english beforehand as well. i wrote most of these at 12am/1am dfjshfsd)

“How you feelin’?” 

George groans, holding his head as he slowly sits up. He feels pressure on his calf, and after chasing away sleep, realises that someone had bandaged his leg up for him. Sapnap is holding out a cup of water, so George receives it gratefully as he downs it all in one go.

“Could’ve been better,” George mutters, placing the cup beside him and thanking Sapnap. “Where are we?”

“I dunno. A tree sturdy enough to fit all of us, I guess,” Sapnap answers, and George’s eyes widen. Indeed, he’s sitting in between two branches, his feet now dangling in mid-air. He thanks the gods silently for not falling off the tree. 

“Wh- why?” 

Sapnap smiles. “Nah, I’m just joking. We have camp below, but Dream decided it’d be best if we stayed on the tree for now, since we’re both injured and all.”

George leans back against the harsh surface, feeling the rough edges of the bark digging into his neck as he lets out a sigh. His wound throbs on instinct, and he reaches down to examine it. 

The gauze is firmly wrapped around his leg, the end tightly secured at the back. He lets his fingers run along the edges, and stops at the clip. Sapnap watches his movements, tilting his head to the side.

“Dream did that. Thank you, by the way,” Sapnap says, a shy smile on his face. “You saved us.”

“A favour for a favour, I guess.” George shrugs, looking back up at Sapnap who is swinging his legs back and forth. “I’m not that heartless, y’know?”

Sapnap chuckles. “Your sword and shield’s in the tent.”

George looks at him, confused, so Sapnap clears his throat as he averts his gaze. “You… uh, you’re leaving, right? It’s the seventh day.”

Oh.

George fumbles with his fingers, biting on his lip as he glances at his injury again. Although his wound is still recovering, he can still limp around, maybe even walk properly and hit the road alone again. He senses Sapnap’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t dare look up as his internal conflict rises again.

Dream has indeed proven his loyalty, showing that he’s different from George’s previous group of friends. George has also noticed that Sapnap is willing to sacrifice himself for Dream, not wanting the other to be held back by his troubles. Despite the chaotic dynamic they both possess, George realises that there is something deep below their useless bickering and constant, playful shoving. 

George kind of misses that feeling, and in the midst of the apocalypse, Dream and Sapnap are the light at the end of the tunnel. He feels oddly safe with them, but he isn’t sure if he wants to risk breaking his trust to join another group again. 

He bites on his lip, and Sapnap seems to sense his uncertainty. The atmosphere tenses for a little as George looks away into the distance, where buildings stood, empty and sad, its past glory living on in memories as houses that once filled with laughter and happiness watch him battle his thoughts. 

“George?”

“I uh…”

They fall into silence once again, the cogs in Sapnap’s head turning, his eyes widening in realisation. “Wait, you don’t wanna leave?”

“I mean, I can leave if I want but if it’s okay maybe I wanna just uh… just stay? Or else it’s totally okay I can leave and I-” George splutters, his hands making wild motions as he panics for a little, preparing himself for the rejection. 

Sapnap’s laughter cuts him off. “Dude, holy fuck yes!” 

“What?”

“Oh my god, George, I-” Sapnap stops to catch his breath, a wide grin slapped onto his face at the news. “Yes! Holy shit, Dream’d be so happy!”

George tilts his head. “Wait, you don’t want me to leave?”

Sapnap shakes his head, almost falling off the tree from how hard he’s laughing. His eyes are glinting with happiness, his tongue poking out a little from the corner of his mouth as he holds his stomach, giggling. George feels the tensions in his shoulders release, and with Sapnap’s contagious laughter, he can’t help but let himself smile.

“My god, why’d you think we’d ask you to leave?” Sapnap holds onto the nearest branch. “We’ve literally begged you to stay.”

“I don’t know, I just-” George shrugs, letting the words fall. He feels Sapnap’s hand on his shoulder, and for the first time, he looks up and meets Sapnap’s eyes.

“Hey, it’s alright, okay?” The warmth in Sapnap’s voice causes George to relax. “We’re here, we want you here, George. You- god, you’ve literally proven yourself to be more than capable, don’t put yourself down.”

The wind howls in agreement, and George nods although he still feels doubt chewing at the back of his mind. Satisfied with George’s response, Sapnap lets out a loud whoop, almost flinging himself off the tree again as he celebrates George’s permanent stay.

It’s weird, how he feels more comfortable with strangers that he has met for six days, how he feels more safe around them. It almost feels wrong, as if he shouldn’t be so easily trustable, so gullible.

But George supposes it’s alright. For once, he lets his walls down as he listens to Sapnap laugh.

*  
“To George!” Dream cheers, holding out a small cup. God knows where they got that from, but George doesn’t question it, instead receiving it from Dream’s hands carefully. Sapnap is holding the neck of a slim bottle, and George lowers his cup for Sapnap to fill his cup up with more ease. 

“To George!” Sapnap echoes, smiling as the duo turns to George, who has a shy grin on his face as he reaches out to clink the cups together. Both Dream and Sapnap downs their drinks (which is just plain water, but both Dream and Sapnap make such a big fuss that George doesn’t find it in himself to stop them) while George takes a slow sip out of his, letting the liquid sit in his mouth before swallowing. 

“Man, welcome to the cool club!” Sapnap smiles, and George can’t help but grin, the fire crackling loudly as if it is celebrating the new addition to the team. George fiddles with his fingers as he watches the fire, feeling both Dream’s and Sapnap’s eyes on him, still not used to the sudden attention.

“So, how you feeling right now?” Dream asks. George looks down at his cup, absentmindedly swirling the water inside. He’s suddenly thrown back to the times when he attended parties, before all these stupid apocalypse thing happened. 

He wonders if his friends are still okay, but he shakes off the thoughts before he gets sucked into them again. Shrugging, he smiles at Dream. “I dunno, kinda happy?”

“Only happy?” Dream pouts, and George’s heart clenches weirdly. “C’mon, Georgie, I’m sure you’re feeling more than that.”

George merely raises his eyebrow at Dream’s statement, trying to conceal the weird feeling at the bottom of his stomach as he gives Dream a smirk. “Well, that’s because you’re here.”

It’s a lame comeback, and George knows it, but Sapnap still gives a loud whistle at it. “Damn, he just annihilated you. How _you_ feeling right now, Dream?” 

Dream rolls his eyes, though there’s a playful glint behind the yellowish irises. “Hurt. How could you, George? I saved you, and this is how you repay me?” He places a hand over his heart, and from Sapnap’s disappointed sigh George realises that maybe he has made the wrong choice of staying. “By breaking my heart? By stomping on my soul-”

“Dream, if you don’t shut the fuck up right now I’ll personally feed you to the zombies,” Sapnap mumbles, putting his empty cup on the mat that they had laid down a few hours ago. 

“How do you even live with this?” George grins, turning to Sapnap as the latter shrugs, his eyes flickering between the flames and his friends. 

“I dunno, should’ve just ditched him when I had the chance.”

Although George knows Sapnap is only joking, he still feels the sting as past experiences resurface, haunting him yet again. Before they can conquer his mind, he bats them away, and bites on his lip as he scurries to change the topic. He clears his throat. 

“So, uh… do you guys always do this? When you have people joining?”

He sees Dream and Sapnap exchange glances, the atmosphere somehow shifting to something less playful as George feels heat creeping up his cheeks, yelling internally at himself for bringing the mood down. He opens his mouth in an attempt to change the topic, but Dream cuts him off before the words leave his mouth. 

“We don’t… you’re the second person to join. The second stranger, kind of,” Dream looks away, focusing on the shadows of the trees in the distance, and George grabs at the opportunity to look at Dream’s features fully, at the way his hair falls into his eyes a little, at the way the tip of his nose always has that slight dust of pink. George’s eyes linger at the splashes of freckles that paint Dream’s cheeks and nose, tracing the distinct jawline that seems to always be slightly tense. He lets himself stay mesmerised, until Dream looks over at him and they accidentally make eye contact, which causes George to look down at his cup awkwardly. “We used to…”

“You don’t have to tell me, if you aren’t comfortable with it. I’m sorry for asking.” George places the cup down beside him, and with some newfound strength, makes eye contact with Dream again. The slight pain behind the faux determination in Dream’s gaze causes George’s breath to hitch a little. 

Dream turns to Sapnap. “Do you, uh, are you okay if we tell him?”

Sapnap shrugs again, motioning for Dream to continue. The former picks up the bottle and fills up their cups as Dream coughs, shifting to make himself more comfortable. 

“Well, so before you joined, we had this one friend called Bad. He’s literally the sweetest person on Earth, trust me, he’s…” Dream chokes, and Sapnap pats his back, a small encouragement. Though, his gaze hardens at his next thought, the grip on his cup tightening as he spits out the words. “He doesn’t deserve to be here, suffering the consequences of what those fucking scientists have done.”

“Bad’s the one who kept us sane. He’s the brain of our group, I’d say. The glue that keeps us together. He knows how to knife throw, shoot guns, and all that cool stuff. Like, he’s the most prepped one out of all of us.” Sapnap chuckles, though there’s no humour behind it at all. “We were panicking, and Bad just said something like ‘we should meet up together, I have everything we need’.”

“He’s the only reason we’re alive now,” Dream says.

The quiet chirps of crickets and the occasional crackle of the flames are the only ones to fill in the silence. George shifts, unsure of what to do next. Words are never his forte, and he doubts both Dream and Sapnap are comfortable with hugs, so he lets a small ‘sorry’ slip past his lips and prays that that’s enough.

Fortunately, Sapnap moves on. “Actually, he’s the one to suggest this weird… drinking thing? When we were discussing on having someone else in our group, Bad suggested we do this weird ritual thing.” Sapnap chuckles. “It’s funny though, because the both of us thought that it was a stupid idea. We never went along with it when that guy joined.” 

“Bad seemed kinda disappointed, don’t you think?” Dream asks, watching Sapnap for his reaction. “Like, he was really excited about it.”

“We’re doing it now, aren’t we?” Sapnap shoots back, but despite the lighthearted tone, there seems to be something heavy behind that sentence. “He’s just… he’s just not here to see it.”

Dream sniffs, looking away, and George realises he’s crying. The guilt behind his eyes betray the smile that he’s forcing on his face, a mask to hide his feelings and convince himself that everything’s okay. 

As Sapnap engulfs Dream in a hug, George watches as the latter leans into Sapnap’s touch. With Dream’s back facing him, George stands up, sensing Sapnap’s eyes on him, and gives Sapnap an apologetic smile. Sapnap returns him the smile. 

George turns around, and walks away. He figures that the two need some personal space.

*  
It’s weird to have people you can rely on, especially when you have been travelling solo for a very long time.

George isn’t used to the dynamics at first. Once, when he was going out to scavenge for food with Sapnap, he wandered too far away from the other, striking panic in Sapnap’s heart when he realised (a little too late) that George was nowhere to be seen. When George returned with a handful of canned food and some packet drinks, Sapnap was close to tears. 

Needless to say, George got yelled at, which soon followed by a bear hug as Sapnap clung onto him, his grip tight on George’s shirt as he muttered curse words and swears that contained no venom. Despite the corners of the drinks digging into George’s torso, he made sure to hug Sapnap back as best as he could, apologies coming out in whispers as he tried to calm the fear-driven boy down.

Afterwards, George learns to be more careful. 

Of course, there were a few occasions when he’d wake up in the middle of the night, eyes wide and terrified at the rustling beside him. He almost killed Dream the first time, the sharp edge of the sword barely grazing past the latter’s neck as he swerved at the last second, plunging into the hay bale beside. His eyes widened at the realisation of almost killing his own travelling companion, his own _friend_ , throwing his sword away with shaky hands as it landed with a clang at the corner of the tent. 

Dream didn’t even flinch, that motherfucker. He merely shifted, turned to face away from George, and continued snoring. 

He made sure to place his sword far away from himself when he slept. When Dream asked about his actions, George just mumbled something about feeling safer around them.

Dream didn’t push George further. 

Occasionally, George finds himself sitting near the fire after waking up from a nightmare, accompanying Dream or Sapnap (whoever is on night duty) as the flickering light illuminates both of their faces. It’s awkward at first, when their chemistry still hasn't been established. They’d accidentally start talking at the same time, or not talk at all. 

It takes time, but soon, George gets a hang of how things work. He finds out that Dream, while excellent in combat and medical related issues, lacks organisation. Sapnap, although not as skilled as Dream, makes it up for his tidiness and sharp hearing. 

They make a good duo, so more often than not George wonders if he’s just the extra, the one who doesn’t really contribute much but still sticks around because it’d be too awkward to leave. Sure, he might be an extra pair of hands, an extra pair of eyes and ears, but that also means extra food, extra resources wasted on him.

George wonders if he’s worth all that. 

He decides to not think about it too much.

*  
“Rough night again?” Dream chuckles, pity filling his voice as George slumps down beside him, nodding silently. “Well, guess I have company.”

“Just admit you’re waiting for me,” George teases. The fire seems to burn brighter, as if it’s welcoming George’s presence itself, but George knows that it merely looks forward to the extra branches that he is going to feed it.

Two weeks have passed, and he’s feeling more confident in talking to both Dream and Sapnap. He doesn’t bother holding back the small teases, scattering them around carelessly as he settles in further with the group. Although there’s still a few awkward moments, he feels more comfortable with them overall. 

Dream snickers, though he doesn’t fuel the conversation further. George picks up a branch, and holds it close to the fire, watching as the flames lick at the edges. He holds it up and away from the main source, his eyes following the small pocket of fire that has caught on, waiting for it to inch its way closer to his fingers, threatening to consume them. The heat from the fire gives him a warning, and he returns the branch back to the campfire before it has a chance to nip at his fingertips. 

“Does this happen often?” Dream breaks the silence between them.

“What?”

“This… y’know, nightmare stuff? Does it happen often?” 

George goes quiet, the few seconds of awkward pauses is enough to convince Dream that he has overstepped a line, because the latter is sputtering apologies and waving the questions off, his face a deep shade of red as he avoids eye contact with George. 

“It’s fine, sorry, I just kinda...” He gestures wildly to his head, hoping Dream catches on with that he’s trying to convey. “Yeah, the nightmares are recurring. It’s stupid, really. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“It happened before you joined us? Or, like, y’know, after?” Dream bites on his lip, turning to George, his head tilted to the side a little, and George swears he feels his heart pounding faster. “‘Cause I don’t think it’s good for you, y’know?”

“Before. It’s kinda better now? I don’t know, like, I feel safer around you guys I guess, so it’s not as often,” George confesses, and there’s something in Dream’s small smile that makes George want to repeat the last sentence again. “It was like… almost every night before this. Now, I get it once or twice a week?”

“Yeah, that’s good,” Dream whispers. They’re both facing each other, and George doesn’t realise how close he’s sitting to Dream until he notices that he can count the freckles on Dream’s face and connect them like dots, that he can see the specks in Dream’s eyes, that he can make out the little scar near Dream’s left eyebrow. 

There’s some sort of unspoken tension between the two as they stare into each other’s eyes, seemingly mesmerised. The flickers of the flames try to snap them out of their daze, but they’re so deep in their own little world that George has to remind himself to breathe, to not tense up. 

He feels Dream’s hand hovering over his cheek, the pad of his thumb swiping at the area just below his right eye. It feels so intimate, the moment so fragile, that George is scared that one wrong move might scare it away, might scare the courage that is bubbling at the bottom of his guts.

Slowly, he leans into Dream’s touch, letting his cheek rest against Dream’s palm. He can feel the warmth of Dream’s hand contrasting the cool night air that bites mercilessly, and the rough areas and bumps, skin hardened due to the prolonged friction of leather and gravel. 

Dream’s breath hitches, and George almost misses it from how loud his heart is pounding, from how fast the blood is rushing through his veins. He’s lightheaded, dizzy, but there’s euphoria and calmness in the midst of panic and chaos, and he realises that everything is so jumbled up that he doesn’t know what he’s feeling anymore. The spluttering of fire is barely audible, covered up by the loud fluttering of butterfly wings in his stomach.

“Look at you…” Dream says, though his voice is quiet, and if it isn’t for the close proximity George would’ve lost it to the wind, to the playful campfire that’s begging for both their attention. Closing his eyes, he feels a shudder run down his spine as Dream trails his thumb below his eyes again. 

He feels safe, and it feels so wrong, yet so right at the same time, because he knows he shouldn’t be trusting people now, shouldn’t be trusting Dream. 

But for today, he lets his heart take over. 

He opens his eyes, and his stomach lurches at the way Dream is looking at him. He doesn’t dare to jump to conclusions, doesn’t dare to place his finger on the emotions he’s feeling now, so he lets himself relish the way Dream is looking at him like he’s the world, like he’s something to be protected.

_Snap._

The loud crack causes the two to jump, and the bubble that they’re in pops as they’re pulled back into reality harshly. Dream is on his feet immediately, scanning the area for the undead cautiously as George’s eyes dart around anxiously, trying to listen for any groans and the scuffed shuffling of feet, the usual telltale sign of the zombies. When they hear nothing but the usual chips of the crickets, Dream sits back down.

George doesn’t let himself think about how Dream is so, so far from him now. 

“It’s probably the fire,” Dream notes, and there’s this weird atmosphere surrounding them, choking George. He wonders if he should bring it up, ask Dream about it.

But that also means bringing up his own feelings, and he doesn’t want to address the hell of a mess in him, the stupid lump of emotions that he has no idea how to untangle from. Dream is feeding the fire again, and George swears that from how loud the fire is cackling right now, it’s laughing at his misfortune, at his conflict.

He stands up. “I’m… uh, I’m gonna go back in.”

Dream nods, and George immediately turns around to duck under the ceiling of the tent, letting the flap hit his back as he enters. He curses at himself silently as he turns to face the wall, trying to convince sleep to cloud his mind before he slams a rock to the side of his head and knocks himself unconscious first. 

He can hear Sapnap’s breathing, a little too heavy, as if he’s awake, but George brushes it off as his own imagination. Out of everyone, he should be the last person to overanalyse someone’s breathing patterns when they’re asleep.

He closes his eyes. 

*  
Somehow, George finds himself going on more scavenger trips than usual. 

Sapnap had volunteered to stay back and take care of the camp, even when Dream had raised his eyebrow and brought up the fact that the former used to look forward to these trips. Sapnap merely shrugged, mentioning that he got tired of them, though the mischievous glint behind his eyes tells George otherwise. 

Theoretically, spending more time with Dream also means getting to know Dream more, which means being more comfortable around Dream. The hours spent together, alone, should technically contribute to George and Dream bonding more than ever.

Unfortunately, theories don’t always work, and George finds himself in more awkward scenarios than ever. Embarrassing moments that he wouldn’t give a damn about if he’s travelling alone, but with Dream, he wants to hide in a corner and cry, wants to disappear forever. 

Dream’s laughter doesn’t help, but he supposes it heals his bruised ego a little. 

Just a little.

“Where are we going today?” George asks, using his hand to shield the sunlight that is glaring in his face. Somehow, today has been an exceptionally hot day, and although they aren’t far from the campsite, his shirt is already soaked and he’s sweating like there’s no tomorrow. 

Dream, on the other hand, seems completely dry, unfazed by the blistering hot sun as he squints, pointing to the front where a few buildings stood. 

“I was thinking Walmart? I was scouting and saw it, and it seemed pretty big. We might be able to find something useful there.” He shrugs, his body on high alert as they near the huge building.

Shattered windows inform them that there had been a few unfriendly visitors, but the duo merely climbs through the holes, avoiding the stray glass that lay on the ground as they crunch underneath their shoes. George straightens his back and scans the dim area wearily, his hand hovering above the hilt in case there is company. 

“It’s clear,” Dream whispers as he cuts through the cashier and goes straight for the entrance to the canned food aisle, bypassing the knocked over chairs and discarded papers that flutter when they walk past them. “We should split up. Like, you go to the dried section while I go to the canned. We’ll see what we can gather and meet each other here. If there’s intruders-”

“Scream. I got it, Dream.” George looks down at his watch, and mentally takes note of the time. “Five minutes?”

“Sure. Be safe,” Dream pats George’s shoulder, before disappearing into the nearby aisle. Ignoring the longing for Dream’s hand to be back on his shoulder again, George shuffles to his designated aisle, keeping his feet as light as possible so as to avoid attracting unwanted attention. 

He is remotely surprised when he sees a few packets of instant noodles sitting on the shelf, and at the back of his mind, he wonders if it’s a trap to lure him. Cautiously, he sneaks towards them, and upon counting, stealthily takes the four packets of ramen, cursing underneath his breath at the loud plastic wrappers. 

He crouches down, his arm reaching out into the dark to sweep for more in between the shelves, instantly rewarded when he pulls out one cup noodles and a packet of peanuts. He stashes them in his grey backpack, clicking it shut immediately after. Continuing his search, he makes sure to check in between every shelf and every surface, to make sure that no precious food is left behind by his carelessness. 

George is about to stand up when he hears footsteps approaching him, echoing through the empty Walmart, causing his blood to freeze. Holding his breath, he tries to count the scattered rhythm, trying to estimate the closeness of the stranger, when he realises that it’s not one, but two pairs of feet.

None of them belonged to Dream’s, and he wonders if that’s good or bad news. 

His heart is pounding as his fingers close around the hilt of the sword, ready to pull it out and fight if needed, his mind calculating the various escape routes he has seen on the way to the aisle. Trying to sneak past them from the back may be a viable solution, but he has to be quiet, be sneaky. Be quick.

Agility has always been his strongest area, and as he presses his back against the metal shelves, the cold edges dig into his back and arms a little too uncomfortable for his liking. He side steps closer to the end of the aisle, making sure to lift his feet and place it down as gently as possible on the tiled floor, holding his breath, afraid that he might give away his position. when a loud screech comes from nearby.

The footsteps come to a stop. His blood runs cold. 

He recognises the scream. 

_Fuck being quiet_ , he thinks, as he rushes towards the canned food aisle, his sneakers squeaking with every contact. His bag thumps awkwardly behind him, but he ignores it as he skids around the corner, and to his horror, sees Dream pinned down by someone. 

They’re wrestling with each other, trying to gain the upper hand. Dream tries to hit them with an uppercut, but they seem to predict his movement as they dodge it, returning the hit with a punch to the face. The impact causes Dream to faze a little, but he recovers soon as he lets out a growl, clawing at the stranger’s throat. Amidst the brawl, George can make out the malicious glint of a blade, raised above Dream’s head, ready to strike.

“Get off him!” George yells, and as the stranger raises their head, George tackles them to the floor. Surprised, they drop the blade, and it skids across the smooth floor before disappearing underneath a row of shelves. Upon holding the stranger down, he realises that they’re masked, their hood falling off to reveal a nest of dark brown hair, laced with pink highlights that he swears he recognises. 

George falters, and the hesitation is enough for the stranger to punch his sides and regain his freedom. He’s about to snatch George’s sword, his fingers already wrapped around the rough leather of the hilt, when a sharp blade presses against his neck. 

“Don’t move, or I’ll kill you.”

“Let him go!” 

George sees Dream glance up, acknowledging the other two shadows that have joined them. However, the grip on his sword doesn't falter as he presses the blade further on the stranger’s throat, and George wonders if Dream is actually going to slaughter the man, if he’s actually going to commit murder. 

“Weapons. On the floor,” Dream says calmly, though there’s a sinister grin on his face as he nods to the stranger. “Or your friend here dies.”

“Okay, okay! Jesus.” 

Following the statement are clatters of knives and a sword, all piled up on the floor beside them as they meekly follow Dream’s orders. At the corner of his eyes, George notices the glances that the man seems to throw at him, more curious than malice. George chooses to ignore them, instead focusing on the situation at hand.

Seemingly satisfied, Dream pulls at the collar of the stranger’s hoodie, letting the sword fall as he pushes the latter to his friends. Stumbling, he scrambles over, his fingers wrapping around the area of his throat where Dream’s sword used to be and rubbing at the wound. Dream seems nonchalant as he picks up his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder in such a careless fashion that George wonders if he even is bothered at all.

“C’mon, George, let’s go-”

“George?”

George stops dead in his tracks.

 _There’s no way_ , he thinks, but he is proven wrong as the stranger with pink highlights pulls his mask down, and soon George is hit with more memories than ever. He hears Dream asking him if he’s okay, a hand on his shoulder, but he’s too hyper fixated on Techno.

On Techno, on his friend. 

“Techno?” he calls out, unsure, yet the small smile on the other’s face confirms his thoughts. “What the fuck-”

“You know them?” Dream asks, shock filling his voice, and George realises that he has to explain the situation to him. Sighing, George glances at Dream, silently promising him his explanation, hoping that Dream will understand. Thankfully, Dream backs down, though his shoulders are still tensed up, ready for a battle.

“Friends from the past,” Techno answers, uncertainty seeping through his voice as he glances nervously at George. “Look. I can explain-”

George chuckles. “What’s there to talk about?” 

And it’s true. It has been months since the incident, and time has healed the wounds on his heart as he seals the painful memories at the back of his mind, never to be touched again. The insecurities and doubts that have stemmed from the event curl around his thoughts, and often they conquer his head as he drowns in waves of self-loathing and self-doubt, but those words no longer harm him as much after he has joined Dream and Sapnap. 

The darkness in him is a horde of zombies, and without the duo, he’d never have fought them off himself. 

Yet, Techno stands in front of him, the prideful glint that was once in his eyes reduced to guilt and fatigue. The person whom he used to trust most, whom he spent the most time with, whom he relied on, and he thought Techno was dead, gone. Hurt and betrayal bubbles at the bottom of his stomach, but there’s some sort of relief and happiness at the new discovery. 

The surprise in Techno’s eyes reflects his thoughts. “You’re… you’re alive. You’re here.”

“Uh… Techno, you know him?” The boy beside him stares, and Techno seems to realise that his friends are still there. 

He nods, but turns around and faces the two boys. “I want you two to go back first. I have some… catching up to do.”

George scoffs quietly. 

“But, Techno-”

“Leave.” The sternness in his voice causes the two to gulp as they quickly back away. One of them spares George another curious glance, but the coldness in George’s gaze is enough to scare the boy away as he follows the trail of his friend. Techno’s eyes follow them, watching until they’re out of earshot, and sighs. 

“Wow, you’ve goons, huh? Don’t wanna ditch them again, do we?” George grins, and Techno winces at the word choice. George can still feel Dream’s hand on his shoulder, firm, but from the sharp inhale, he knows the Dream isn’t expecting his harshness either. 

Techno seems to notice Dream, and he points to the latter, his body rigid. “I don’t think he should be here.”

“What, so that you can leave me again when there’s zombies? He’s staying.” George stands his ground, and for a moment, Techno prepares to argue. “He’s. Staying.”

Techno glares at Dream wearily, but gives in. “Listen, I know I-”

“You ditched me,” George says, matter-of-factly. “I was fighting, and you guys ditched me. I gave you guys a chance to come back, to save me, but you guys never did.

“I sat, at the same fucking spot, for three days. Three fucking days, Techno! That’s plenty of time, but you never came back.” George can hear his voice tremble, and amidst the confrontation, Dream’s hand has slipped into his, the former’s thumb rubbing circles across George’s knuckles in an attempt to calm him down. “I gave you a chance, Techno. You just never took it.”

“I know, I’m sorry,” Techno says. George can feel Dream’s hand tighten, but he squeezes it, hoping that Dream will not interfere. “I really wanted to get back, but halfway through I got injured, and Wilbur had to carry me back to the new camp. I wanted to tell them to go back for you-”

“Then why didn’t you?” 

“I don’t know,” Techno confesses, and the three words break George’s heart further, a confirmation of his own thoughts that he never really mattered to the team, that he was the weakest link. “I’m really sorry, George I-”

“No, don’t.” George takes in a deep breath, focusing on Dream’s touch as he composes himself. “It’s over, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter anyway, it’s in the past.”

Techno looks away, though his eyes linger on George and Dream’s linked fingers. “I wanted to invite you back, but-”

“He’s doing alright, thank you for asking,” Dream spits, and George pulls him back, tugging on his hand. Techno raises his eyebrow, but he doesn’t comment further. 

“I’m gonna pass on that one,” George says firmly. “Besides, even if I’m not in a group, I wouldn’t join back.”

“Yeah, I figured.” Techno picks up his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. “I… I don’t know, it’s good to see you alive after… y’know…”

“I’m glad you’re alive too.” George lets out a smile, void of any malice and resentment. “Good luck.”

“You too.”

With that, Techno turns around and leaves the two alone, heading towards the exit. George stands still, watching Techno’s back as he shrinks smaller and smaller into the distance, until all that’s left is a small, grey blob. He doesn’t realise he’s shaking until Dream puts a hand on his shoulder again, pulling him into an embrace.

George accepts it. 

He’s never one for confrontation, so when he falls into Dream’s arms, he lets the familiar warmth wrap around him. He can feel Dream’s fingers dig into the side of his arms, firm and secure, and George feels protectiveness and wash over him, telling him he’s safe, telling him that Dream is here. The stress in him dissipates, and all that’s left is the butterflies at the bottom of his stomach and a blush on his face. 

He lets himself relax at the touch, because somehow, Dream always makes these situations better. Somehow, Dream is able to find the right words, the right actions, to calm George down, to tell him it’s alright, to soothe his anxiety. Dream knows when to step in and provide George a shoulder to lean on, knows when to jump to George’s rescue, knows when to back out of personal matters. 

It’s as if Dream can read George’s mind, and somehow, George is okay with it. 

George freezes, causing Dream to pull back a little, a small frown plastered on his face. Worried that he has overstepped a boundary, Dream proceeds to unwrap his arms around George, but George pulls him closer, hugs him tighter. 

“George?”

“Stay, please,” George whispers, his voice small and quiet. Dream doesn’t move, and for a second, George wonders if Dream has even heard them at all, heard the broken phrases that have slipped past his lips, lingering in the air around them. 

Then, he feels Dream’s arms around him again, and he’s pressed against Dream’s lime green (or so he’s told) hoodie, grounding him. 

George wonders if Dream is worth all of it, if Dream is worth him sacrificing his trust again, if Dream is worth falling for. He wonders if he’s willing to give his heart away, to be exposed to someone he has only met for a month, to be vulnerable and show his weaknesses and strengths and anything that’s left. 

“George? You good?” 

And _fuck_.

It’s a little too late to wonder if he’s already in too deep. 

*  
They start to head back to camp, their bags almost filled to the brim with foodstuffs and supplies that they deemed might be useful. Dream has offered to carry George’s backpack, claiming that the latter may be tired after encountering Techno, but George declines. On the way back, words are barely exchanged, yet George can feel the burning curiosity that’s radiating off of Dream whenever Dream looks in his direction, questions hanging at the tip of his tongue. 

George doesn't acknowledge it.

“Cooked fish tonight, baby!” Sapnap hollers as the duo come into view, and George sees the clever setup that Sapnap has going on. Consisting of two Y-branches and a stick, he has somehow created a makeshift barbecue stand, the fire barely grazing the fishes. 

It’s innovative, George can tell, and he acknowledges the other’s efforts with a tired grin. Sapnap senses the weird atmosphere, and his hands stop rotating the stick to ask what’s wrong. 

“I’ll explain later, if that's alright? Over dinner,” George promises, his shoulders already aching. Sapnap nods, and George almost sighs in relief as he enters the tent and shakes off the bag. Not bothering to unpack, he collapses onto the pile of hay, closing his eyes as sleep teases at him. 

The hay bale beside him sinks, and Dream joins him, his arms stretched above him lazily as joints pop. George has one hand on his stomach, staring at the orange ceiling above them while silence consumes them again, though the internal battle inside him spares him from any peace. 

He hears Dream’s loud exhale, and feels fingers intertwine with his, timid and shy as they lace themselves in between George’s fingers loosely. George looks down at their hands, his stomach doing somersaults and his throat dry, and back up at Dream as the latter buries his face in his other hand, hiding his emotions. 

George gives him a reassuring squeeze, and turns around so that he’s facing Dream. 

He blames it on fatigue when he curls up and snuggles into Dream’s side, the other hand resting on his chest in a fist, as if that prevents his heart from pounding too quickly. He feels Dream shift, and soon an arm wraps around his waist, coaxing him closer. 

George obeys.

The air around them seems to still a little, and even if harsh strands of hay poke into his cheek, scratching it slightly, George doesn’t care. He lets his leg wrap around Dream’s, and the other’s chest stills momentarily, as if Dream is holding his breath, like he’s worried that he might scare away a rabbit or a deer. 

“I won’t break, Dream.” His words are slurred together, but there’s some sort of firmness behind them, an aura of confidence that George rarely presents to people. Dream sighs, and lets himself relax as he snuggles into George’s hair. 

“I know.” 

George smiles. He falls asleep to the rhythmic thuds of Dream’s heartbeat.

(It’s fast, probably way too fast to be normal, but George dismisses it as the heat instead.)

*  
When Sapnap realises that both Dream and George aren’t responding to his calls, he ducks back into the tent, wondering what his friends are up to.

To his delight, he finds the both of them cuddled up together, George snoring softly while Dream stares, playing with George’s hair at times. 

“You really should just tell him,” Sapnap mumbles, and Dream snaps out of his trance to look at Sapnap, though he tries not to make any sudden movements in fear of waking George up. “He probably feels the same way.”

Dream merely glares at his friend. “He doesn’t. I promise you, it’ll just scare him away.”

Sapnap shrugs. “Well, dinner’s ready.” 

He walks out of the tent before Dream can contribute more to the conversation.

*  
(When George wakes up, Dream is nowhere to be seen. 

Though, his lime green hoodie is left in his arms, where Dream should have been.

It’s still warm.)

*  
The trio is crowded around the campfire, sitting close together to gather as much warmth as possible. George and Sapnap are biting into their portion of the fish, while Dream is running his fingers along the branches that support the entire setup, chewing on his meal distractedly as he admires Sapnap’s handiwork. 

There’s this weird sensation at the bottom of George’s stomach as he tries to collect his scrambled thoughts, letting himself reach into the depths of his mind to pull out memories that he tries to forget. Most of his experiences are far from bitter; in fact, Techno being in most of them makes it hard to forget, and he recalls the times when they’d laugh at each other's mistakes, finding humour and happiness in the midst of the apocalypse and disaster.

Bitterness rises in his throat, and he suppresses it, clearing his throat. It catches the attention of the two boys, who are looking at him with curiosity, and he realises that it’s now or never.

“I’m ready,” George starts, though his voice is trembling. Dream shuffles closer while Sapnap leans forward, listening to George intently as an encouraging smile is on his face.

“If you’re not comfortable, we can-”

“No.” George interrupts Dream, and the sudden confidence surprises Dream, though there’s pride shining in his eyes. “I… I think you guys deserved this. I want to tell you guys this. But uh… I- just don’t interrupt me.”

Sapnap nods. “No judgement. We’ll be listening.”

Taking in a deep breath, he readies himself. Nerves swallow him, and he closes his eyes to avoid looking at the duo’s expressions. “Okay, so before you guys found me, months ago I was with a group of people. We were kinda friends, but I was never close to them except for this one guy: Techno.

“He’s the guy you saw.” George opens his eyes to look at Dream. “Anyways, we were super close because… I don’t know, we just clicked. We always stuck together, the two of us.

“But that doesn’t matter, because one night, there was suddenly this horde of zombies surrounding our camp.” He barks out in laughter. “I guess Tommy didn’t do a good job at watching out, but whatever. So, while everyone was frantically packing up their stuff and whatnot, I- I volunteered to uh… to fight the zombies away.

“I don’t know how long has passed, but I guess it’s a while, because soon after, I- there was no one. Like, I don’t know where they went, and no one bothered to tell me,” George chuckles, though there’s nothing funny behind getting betrayed and left behind. 

“I should’ve known, y’know, that they’d leave me behind. I mean, the group is big enough, so I’m not a loss even if I died,” George mumbles.

“What the fuck-” 

“Dream.” Sapnap glares, and Dream looks down in shame, mouth in a thin line. He shoots George an apologetic smile, and motions for him to continue. 

“Still, there’s this… this hope in me, that they’d come back, that Techno would come back. I sat at the same place, where the tent was, for three days- hell, I don’t even remember. All I knew was… I was so hopeful, so naive. 

“Then, one day, I guess I realised that they aren’t gonna come back for me, so I just left,” George shrugs, and he lets silence consume him for a moment before realising that Dream and Sapnap are still patiently waiting for him to continue. “Fought for myself, never anyone else. Almost died, until you guys saved me. The end.”

George nibbles on the last piece of fish, the saltiness lingering at the tip of his tongue as he tries to avoid both Sapnap’s and Dream’s eye contact. The most vulnerable part of him is out, exposed in the open, and he isn’t sure how he should feel about it. Techno’s laughter echoes in his head, but he shoves it back into the dark corner of his mind and seals it shut. 

“That fucking _bastard_ ,” Dream growls, and George looks up to see him seething with anger, his fists clenched. “If I see him again, I swear to god-”

“Dream.” Sapnap glances back up at George, who shoots back with a look of confusion. “Dream, calm down. George is fine now, see? He’s here, he’s with us.”

Dream relaxes slightly, but George can still see his tensed up shoulders and the hardened gaze, his usual battle stance. “Sap, he could’ve died! George could’ve died, and those fucking bitches probably won’t even know, those heartless fuckers. They just- have you heard what he said, Sap? They just left him there, alone, and Techno didn’t even-”

“Don’t,” George says, his jaw clenched. “Don’t go there, Dream. You don’t get to say shit about Techno.”

“Why are you still defending-”

“Dream, come,” Sapnap orders, standing up and pulling a pissed off Dream with him. He then looks over at George. “Give us… give us a few minutes.”

George nods tensely, and he doesn’t realise how tight he’s holding onto the mat until his hand aches, the imprints a reminder of his anger. Closing his eyes, he takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down, and when it doesn’t work, proceeds to kick at the ground underneath him. 

He stands up, the remains of the fish discarded into a pit that Sapnap has dug up before their dinner, and walks away from the fireplace. It’s probably the worst decision he has made ever since joining the group, but his senses are clouded by rage and all he can see through the fog is how Dream is painting Techno as the bad person. 

George yells, and punches at a tree near him, the pain momentarily numbing the overwhelming thoughts that are rushing to his head. He’s cold, and he’s shivering, but the fire inside him burns brighter, fueled by annoyance and maybe something more, something that he has repressed for a long time.

He brushes it away as his fist collides with the trunk of the tree again. 

His knuckles are scraped by the time he’s vented his emotions out on the tree, the rough bark scratching into his skin and giving him blisters. The cold wind that’s blowing on his wounds only serves to irritate him more as they throb in pain, but he carelessly shoves them into his pockets as he makes his way back to camp.

Both Dream and Sapnap are sitting by the fire, and when they see George’s silhouette, Sapnap rushes towards the latter worriedly. 

“What the hell? Where’d you go?” He asks, pulling George towards the fire so that he can see him clearer. “What the heck happened to your hands?”

Dream merely huffs, cheeks pink, and George doesn’t know if it’s from the drop in temperature or the heat of the fire. “Well, he’s safe now, isn’t he? I’m going to sleep now.”

There’s something sharp twisting in his heart, writhing and squirming, and George tries to hide his disappointment towards Dream as Sapnap fusses over him. He lets Sapnap drag him towards the mat, refusing to make eye contact with Sapnap as the other cleans his wounds up tenderly. They sit in silence for a while, Sapnap placing a plaster over a cut on George’s knuckle as the final touch, and Sapnap sighs. 

“I hope you know he’s worried about you too,” Sapnap says, but George only examines the bandage on his hand. “He’s just reckless; give him a day or two.”

“I just don’t understand why he’s so… I don’t know, so worked up over Techno,” George whispers, pushing away the pain that’s growing in his heart, a stubborn thorn that refuses to be pulled out. “I’m fine, I’m over it, but apparently he’s the one being anal about all this shit.”

“That’s just Dream, I guess,” Sapnap chuckles. 

“Yeah, well, tell him to stop.”

Sapnap sighs again. “I can’t, plus there’s a reason why he’s so protective over you. You’re not the only one with a story to tell.”

George raises his eyebrow, looking at Sapnap expectantly. Sapnap looks back, and with a defeated murmur, feeds a branch to the fire. 

“You remember Bad? The guy who started the weird ‘drink when there’s someone new joining us’ guy?” 

George nods, his other hand subconsciously tracing the edges of the plaster. Sapnap lets out a smile as his eyes trace the edges of the shadow of a tree, his mind racing. “He died because he sacrificed his life for Dream.”

“What?”

“You heard me,” Sapnap glances at George. “Dream was too… cocky, I’d say. Too high up his own arse, pretended that nothing was wrong, until a bunch of dickheads decided to raid our camp. He thought he could fight all five of them, what a fucking idiot.

“Bad was at the stream not far away from the camp: Dream could’ve yelled for him. To be fair, Dream’s a good fighter, but up with five other people?” Sapnap chuckles. “He doesn’t even stand a chance.

“When Bad came back, the guys had him tied up on the tree. Somehow, they decided to torture him to prove their place, I guess, I don’t know. Some weird pride thing. There’s this guy with a gun who’s swinging it around like nobody’s business, occasionally pointing it towards Dream’s head or something. I don’t know, that’s what Dream told me anyway.

“So Bad, obviously, tackled the guy, because he’s the biggest threat. And the… the gun was unlocked? Like, basically one of them had a finger on the trigger and… and pulled it.”

Sapnap chokes, tears gleaming at the corner of his eyes. “Wait, gimme… gimme a few seconds.”

George watches with pity as Sapnap wipes his eyes with the corner of his sleeves, sniffing as he composes himself. He puts a hand on Sapnap’s knee, offering some type of reassurance, and Sapnap gives him a watery smile.

“I was out gathering stuff, so when I came back to… to Bad being dead, I just blamed him. I pushed the blame on him so fucking hard without even listening him to him, like, he didn’t have a chance to explain it to me,” Sapnap mumbles, and bites on his lip. “Fuck, it took me like, what, three days? To cool down and all that.

“I wasn’t being a good friend at that time, so I tried to make it up to him by supporting him afterwards. He says he’s fine and all that bullshit, but deep down, he still blames himself. He puts up this… this facade, this mask, to hide his pain.”

Sapnap looks down, fingers tightening around a few strands of dead grass and pulling them out of the ground. “That’s why he’s so angry when Techno ditched you, I guess. Because you’re another person he cares for, and knowing that someone betrays you just… doesn’t sit right with him.”

“Well, it still doesn’t give him the right to slander Techno’s name like that. He’s still my friend,” George mutters, but the bitterness that was previously in his stomach is gone, regret taking its place. He sees Sapnap nod beside him.

“Yes, it doesn’t, but I-” Sapnap exhales defeatedly, letting the grass fall from his fingers. “Just talk to him or something. Or he’ll talk to you, whichever. You two have a lot to talk about.”

George thinks that Sapnap is implying about other matters, but he pushes it away. “I will. Thanks, Sap.”

Sapnap smiles, though it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Yeah. No problem.”

*  
(When George wakes up the next morning, Dream is still ignoring him.

George lets his hand wander closer to Dream, fingers brushing against the other’s timidly before slotting themselves in between Dream’s. 

Dream looks away, but he doesn’t retract. Doesn’t move his hand away.

George lets them stay like this for a while.)

*  
George finds Dream near the river later that day.

Sapnap has gone out to scout the area, taking George’s bike with him. Dream has volunteered to go with Sapnap, but the latter has insisted that he stay at camp, causing a small argument to spark out between them until Sapnap storms out. Dream has also left the camp in a fit of rage, which leaves George behind. 

He figures Dream just wants some space for himself, so he lets Dream go, busying himself by cleaning up the areas around the camp a little and making sure that they still have most of the supplies. When hours passed, George’s worry grew, his friend’s safety gnawing at the back of his mind.

Going in the direction where Dream had headed to, George hears the sound of rushing water before he sees the river, and in the middle of it stood Dream, the legs of his jeans and the sleeves of his hoodie rolled up. His hair is slightly damp, sticking to his forehead, as he waddles over to another area of the river. 

George decides to sit by the bank and watch Dream, admiring how smooth and stealthy the latter’s movements are. Taking off his shoes, he lets his feet dip into the cool water, and a small smile finds its way onto his face as he feels himself relax at the gentle touch. He cups a handful of water, letting it trickle through the gaps of his fingers and fall back into the stream. 

Suddenly, a wriggling fish lands splat beside him, and he lets out a scream as it flops helplessly, Dream’s laughter ringing in the background. George glares at him.

“What the fuck?” Angrily, he almost throws the fish back at Dream, before the other raises his hands in caution and stops him from doing so. The fish struggles for a few more seconds, spasming and gasping for air, before it stops moving completely. 

“That’s our dinner, or breakfast for tomorrow. Whichever.” Dream shrugs, then leans forward to dip his hands into the stream again. “What are you doing here?”

“Checking on you? You literally left like… hours ago. I thought you got eaten by zombies or something,” George mumbles and kicks, sending drops of water in Dream’s direction. Dream lets out a loud yelp, and George continues kicking. 

“George, stop!” Dream wheezes, but George ignores him as he continues attacking Dream with his army of droplets, only stopping to cover himself when Dream takes revenge. Soon, a water fight starts among them both, George trying to take cover behind a tree, only for Dream to pull him out of his hiding spot. Dragging George by his sleeves, Dream laughs and sweeps George off of his feet, earning him a scream. 

“Dream, no- put me down!” 

“No can do.” There’s an evil smirk on Dream’s face, as George continues to struggle in his grip. Glancing up, he realises Dream is carrying him towards the river, and in a desperate attempt to escape, smacks Dream’s chest. 

“Let me- Dream, stop it!” George writhes around, but Dream only lets out a laugh. They’re both in the middle of the river, Dream holding George up while George clings onto Dream’s soaked hoodie desperately. “Dream, I- please, we can talk about this? Don’t need to get-”

And George feels nothing but air beneath him. With a gasp of betrayal, he closes his eyes and lets the water hit his back. 

The river envelopes George in a hug, and the pebbles at the bottom digs into George’s back for his attention. He feels water slide across his sides, the downstream grazing his arms as they offer some sort of comfort for him. Holding his nose, he lets himself sink slowly, Dream’s laughs muffled underwater as a strange sense of serenity wraps around him.

Somehow, the gentle sway of the river and the silence that engulfs him eases his mind. He lets himself float, lets the waters carry him to where they deem he belongs, away from zombies and stress and conflict. The fluttery touch of the waves coaxes him to let his body go, and so he listens, feeling his tense muscles relax as he lets his limbs follow the river.

George can stay here forever.

Fingers wrap around his wrist, and soon he’s pulled to the surface, the sudden roar of the river snapping him back to reality. Opening his eyes, he sees Dream in front of him, staring at him with worry and fear as hands hold his shoulders tightly. 

“Why’d you pull me up?” George mumbles, brushing the hair that has stuck to his forehead aside. 

“I thought you didn’t know how to swim!” Dream says, panicked, his green eyes wild as they dart frantically across George’s face. “You were like… not moving! I thought I accidentally killed you or something!”

George laughs, and he feels his body lean forward slowly as it comes to a rest against Dream’s. He lets out a small shiver, his wet shirt clinging tightly against his skin, the cold air biting harshly at him. Dream’s arms hold him closer, and George accepts the warmth gratefully. 

“I’m sorry,” Dream whispers. George senses that they aren’t on the topic of the river anymore. He shakes his head, and Dream pulls apart to look George in the eye. “I mean it, really.”

“And I accept it.” George clears his throat. “I just really don’t like it when you accuse Techno.”

“But-”

“Dream, no,” George says, gritting his teeth, and he can see Dream’s nervous gaze landing everywhere but on him. With a sudden surge of confidence, he slips his fingers along Dream’s jaw, causing Dream to widen his eyes. “I don’t need you to make judgements for me, okay? I know how to deal with things on my own, you just need to let me.”

“I just… I’m sorry, I don’t want you to be hurt,” Dream mutters, his burning gaze making George’s insides squirm. The latter instead lets his hand graze Dream’s cheek, and what even are they now? _So affectionate, yet so distant._

“I know, I just-” he sighs, his fingers dancing along Dream’s jaw once again, feeling the stubble underneath the other’s chin. “I don’t need you to protect me. Techno’s still my friend, y’know? Just like you and Sapnap, it was once me and Techno.”

His hand rests on Dream’s shoulder, and he feels the ghost of Dream’s fingers running along his side, resting on his waist. His heart is beating too fast, his eyes jumping from one of Dream’s freckles to the other, connecting them in his head like they’re stars, making up names for constellations that he knows don't exist. 

“Sapnap will never do that,” Dream says, though it’s out of sadness instead of malice, and George thinks that he sees a hint of pity in Dream’s stare. 

Smiling, George shakes his head. “That’s what I thought of Techno too, but… people change.” He feels Dream’s thumb rubbing circles, and he swears he’s ascending into heaven. _Who are we? What are we?_ “Dream, I don’t- I don’t need you to protect me like I’m some kind of porcelain that breaks easily. I’m not that fragile.

“I-” George takes a shaky breath, and he’s very aware of Dream’s warm breath on him. “I’m stronger than I look. I’m not weak.”

“I know, that’s why I wanted you to join us, a team.” Dream raises his hand to push George’s hair back up, and they’re so, so close together that George might explode. “Look at you…”

“Dream?” 

The loud gushes of the river dims into trickles of droplets as the quick current that’s weaving through their legs fade away into silky touches, and George swears that he can hear his own heartbeat. They’re in their own little world again, a small bubble isolating them from the world, a protection that spares them from zombies, from the apocalypse, from the cruelty of mankind. Dream’s fingers brush George’s cheek, and the latter leans into Dream’s touch.

“Can I kiss you?”

George isn’t sure if he has heard Dream correctly, so he hums in confusion. He feels Dream’s hand leave, taking warmth away from him, and he whines as he pulls at the front of Dream’s hoodie. Lazy eyes meet panicked ones as Dream tries to back away again.

“George, shit, sorry I-”

“You’re so fucking noisy,” George whispers, and closes the distance between them.

He hums again as chapped lips meet his, a sickly sweet feeling dripping down his throat, the honey-like substance satisfying the butterflies that’s going berserk in his stomach. He chases the heat that’s radiating from Dream’s body as he pushes the both of them closer, his arms wrapping around Dream’s neck, tilting his head a little. His head is spinning, and the world is collapsing around them, but ironically, George feels safe in Dream’s arms. 

They fit right, as if they’re made for each other. A half of a puzzle that finally pieces together, like they’re made for each other. George feels right, as if he belongs with Dream, belongs in his arms.

George smiles, and nips on Dream’s lip teasingly.

“Hey!” Dream chuckles, though his voice is slightly deeper. George rolls his eyes, laughing as he pulls Dream back in again for a quick kiss.

They stand in the water for a while, and Dream lets out a wider smile. “You like me?”

George groans. “No, I kissed you because we’re homies. I do not like you at all, not even-”

“George, okay!” Dream wheezes, and George feels his heart backflip into oblivion. “I just… wow.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re…” Dream waves his arm around, scrambling to find words as he stutters. “I- you’re- what?”

Chuckling, George leans in again. “Yes, Dream?”

“You, uh… you wanna be boyfriends?” Dream blushes as he makes eye contact with George once again, their foreheads pressed against each other.

“You’re so fucking cute, yes.”

Their lips reconnect again.

*  
It’s almost dark when they’re done confessing and blushing, giggling like teenagers as they haul their catch of fish (or Dream’s) back to camp. Sapnap, upon hearing loud chatters, rushes out of camp in a frenzy as he runs towards the duo.

“Where the fuck have you two been? I- George, why are you dripping wet and wearing-”

He looks down at their connected hands, and goes silent for a moment. Dream smirks, and tugs George closer to him, raising their intertwined fingers with pride while George punches him in the side, face red in embarrassment.

“Oh.”

And that’s enough to send both Dream and George into a laughing fit as Sapnap yells at them again.

*  
They’re both staring up at the night sky.

The fire is cackling, but it seems to be more quiet today as it watches the couple with interest, curiosity fueling its flames. 

“You see that?” George points at a group of stars, and Dream hums in response. “That’s Ursa Minor, the one that looks like a pot. And that’s, like, Pegasus or Gemini, something like that. It’s been long since I watched the stars. I don’t know which bunch belongs to which.”

“But you know you belong with me, right?” 

George goes silent, and Dream glances over in worry, only to see George staring back at him. Blushing, Dream looks back up at the sky again, but the finger trailing up his arm is enough to make him return to George’s gaze again. This time, George seems closer to usual.

But Dream doesn’t mind that one single bit.

“You’re a cocky bastard, you know that right?”

“But I’m your cocky bas-”

George kisses him before he can finish the sentence, and happily, Dream returns the favour.

The fire cackles brighter than ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> to be perfectly honest, im not that happy with this chapter. there's multiple scenes that i didnt include, partly because i didn't want to drag this on further, and partly because i want to like... move on djhsfsf (its supposed to be a oneshot, but it got too long)
> 
> so, this one (1) that i didnt include but i should've:  
> \- george pulling dream into the river with him
> 
> i probably have more, but i forgot lol (i took a month to write this, so some scenes are a little woozy for me)
> 
> regardless, i hope you enjoyed <3
> 
> (edit: just realised i have one (1) more chapter to go. it's an extra scene, but i'll def still write it)

**Author's Note:**

> my twitter: ISLE0FDREAM


End file.
